Reading at the Surface

With little else to do but chores

That manage to be worse to do

The more you’re free for doing them

Why not wade back into the sea

Of undifferentiated

Anglophone collections of texts

Not paying any attention

Just plowing through wave after wave

Of them all haunted by voices

But faintly when you read too much

So that the biological

And culturally specific

And unique personalities

Are distant squeakings in the waves

Like birds or suitors turned to bats

The faint noises of distinct lives

Hovering around the language

You’re swimming in as best you can